After The End
by Sir Manayaz
Summary: One-shot. AU. Just a weird, depressing take I had on the world if Voldemort had won. A glimpse into that world from the point of view of a child


**_Disclaimer: _**_I do not own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling_

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Its dark out, it always is. The sky is a permanent shade of gray from the heavy clouds hanging gloomily overhead, as if the smoke from all the fires simply got trapped up there and blocked out the sky. Sometimes in the summer the cloud thins if you're lucky, once I even thought I saw blue peering through or maybe it was just my imagination. Ask anyone old enough and they'll tell you that the sky was blue once, a beautiful bright blue. The sky must've seen the state of the world and hid back behind the clouds, too disgusted and ashamed at what become of the Earth after Lord Voldemort's victory. I guess I don't blame it.

I was born after so all I have to go on is stories about before the war, I don't know how accurate they are. They say it used to be warmer too, that the clouds didn't block out the sun. They mention the landscape was nicer too, that grass is supposed to be green and not all brown, brittle. It crunches underfoot when you walk on it, if you don't have shoes then it can be prickly. I live in a field, the orphanage is surrounded by all this brown grass and it stretches out across the roll hills too. Well, it's not really an orphanage but rather where they take Magical children under eleven born to Mudbloods or born to Blood Traitors being executed or sometimes just abandoned children. It's rumored that they also take Mudblood children and lie about it, just because they want the numbers of Magicals to rise. I don't know which I am, I was brought here as baby so I don't recall it myself and the Death Eaters who run this place either don't know, or don't think it's worth my knowing. Most babies don't stay here, they get adopted by Magical families but not me. I have a scar on my cheek you see, no one wants a baby with a scar on their cheek. I came here with it, don't know how I got it but I did have it before.

It's not nice there. The Death Eaters are cruel, the food is infrequent, the clothes are rags and we sleep on the floor, crammed together under threadbare blankets. The building itself is a wreck, maybe from a distance you can the semblance of what was once grandeur but up close you can see the cracks showing. The rotting wood can barely keep this place up, it groans when you walk up the steps and through a door with a rusted handle. It is big inside but every room is the same, old floorboards and walls peeling down and full of holes, everywhere is filthy because no one cleans despite a Mudblood slave coming for that purpose. They only clean the Death Eaters quarters, the rest of the place doesn't matter because our blood status isn't deserving of it. There are windows but most are cracked, even those that aren't have a film of dirt so thick you can't see out of it.

I don't mind it so much, I like watching the patterns the rain makes sliding it. The sound of rain too, it's so relaxing and I like to lie awake listening to it when everyone else has shut up and slept. People call me weird for it but I don't care. I have no friends, I don't fit in with the clicks there. The children of Mudbloods hang out together, lamenting the loss of a loving family. I can't even imagine what that feels like but it sounds nice, before the death part anyway. The children of Blood Traitors hang out together, spouting all bravado about how the Ashes of the Phoenix are going to destroy Lord Voldemort and the world would be better again. They're the majority groups and I belong to neither, hence my difficulty.

The Ashes of the Phoenix are this resistance group that actively fights against the Dark Lord's regime, rumor has it they were called the Order of the Phoenix once and The Boy Who Died was a part of it. I don't know if it's true, there are lots of stories about The Boy Who Died. I don't think they have a chance though, if their children didn't keep showing up here then I'd not even be aware that they still did anything to make a difference. Or maybe the Death Eaters just don't like the news of them to get through, I don't know. It's amazing how many people still cling to this ridiculous hope though, we already lost. I think it's pretty obvious we lost, I think everyone lost really if you look at the world.

Even Lord Voldemort lost. I don't think he realized the effect that the upheaval of war or the mass-murdering of Muggles would have on our own food supply, food is scarcer these days than before. Life is only easy for the elite Purebloods and Death Eaters, even then I'd imagine they had to cut back. The Death Eaters here eat better than us, we get little and the Mudblood slaves get even less even though they're the ones who make the food. We never get meals, they just throw a basket of scraps onto the table and leave us to fight over them. That happens every other day on average but sometimes it takes a couple of days or those awful times, a week, although sometimes a miracle happens and we'll get food every day for a few days. Everyone fights to get what they can from the basket, there's much shoving, pushing, scratching, hair pulling and even biting. Even when you get something, you have to be careful because others will still try taking it from you.

I'm neither the biggest nor the strongest so I have to be smart, I use magic. The instant they throw down the basket, I make the biggest lump of food that I can see shoot straight up to the ceiling while they scrabble like a pack of wild Muggles. I wait until they're all around it before making the piece of food float over to me unnoticed by them, it took a lot of practice but I have a lot of time alone. It's better to be alone, you know? You shouldn't get close to people because they always go away, even animals. I befriended a cockroach once, I called her 'Roachelle'. I used to give her crumbs, talk to her and it was nice, she always came back to me. Until one of the older boys decided she'd make a nice snack, he ate my friend. When I found out I was furious and upset, it was the first time I ever picked a fight with someone. He beat the crap out of me and called me a freak for caring about a bug. I cried.

The last time I ate was yesterday, I got a half a loaf of bread using my usual method. After that I left the orphanage like I usually do, if they trust you and you're back on time and you're not in lessons then you're allowed to leave. I always do to make sure no one can take my food from me, besides I like being away from that place. You have to walk for a quite a bit but you come to this stream with a waterfall, it's really beautiful and the sound is relaxing like rain. I love it there. You can even drink the water to wash down what you eat, I think it's more refreshing than the water from the orphanage. The bread was stale but it's so rarely not that the taste is practically normal, no mold is gold. It was a nice big chunk too, if you try take too much then it gets noticed which is why I think my way is decent. Of course I was still hungry after eating it but hunger is a good thing, when you're _not_ feeling hungry... That's when your body is too weak from starvation to even feel the hunger anymore, it's not a good sign.

I didn't know my life would change forever that day, especially not from doing normal things. After my bread and a drink from the stream, I often take a wander and explore the area, the twisted trees can be a fun challenge to climb if I'm feeling energetic. I follow the stream usually and today was no different, there was no warning or anything. I just took another step forward, there was a snap followed by a crunch and I felt something bite my ankle. I screamed in pain and fell, finding my foot trapped and still in agony. I looked down and saw this metallic mouth had a hold of me, its teeth had latched into my ankle tightly. My blood was dribbling down from the wounds but it didn't let go, I didn't know what the silent creature was and could only see the jaws. Turns out it wasn't a creature, just a muggle trap but not the point.

I tried to breathe through the pain and focus on using magic to free myself but I couldn't focus enough, do you know how hard it is to focus with knifelike teeth stabbing you? Instead I tried to scrabble for a rock on the shore and hit the creature, it didn't seem to affect it though, nor did it help when I tried to pry it off me. I tried to stand, thinking it might let go if I dangled it in the stream since it wouldn't be able to breathe. I managed to stand, attempting movement sent shockwaves of pain into the already agonizing wounds but I gritted my teeth through it, fearing the creature would eat me if I couldn't stop it. I found I couldn't move though, someone had already chained the creature in place and it pulled me back to the ground, I screamed again. I was feeling weak now, warm tears were rolling down my cheeks. I called for help and fell into blackness, not knowing whether it'd be the last time I ever closed my eyes or not. I vaguely recall the feeling of being dragged but I could've just been dreaming.

"Well, it ain't a deer like we 'oped but we should still be able to 'ave some food off it," an accented voice was the next thing I remember, "Don't y'think, Mabel?"

"Not much meat on 'is bones, is there?" a second female voice said and I felt bony fingers jabbing painfully into the gaps between my ribs.

I opened my eyes, cringing at the waves of pain still pulsating from where the metallic thing had bit me although that was gone, I was now lying on a table in some kind of dilapidated shack. There was a man and woman standing over me, they were emaciated with rags hanging off their skeletal bodies. The man was short and bald with only a few wisps of white hair left, his face was caked in dirt and his deep-set bloodshot eyes bored into my own disturbingly. The woman was actually taller with hair that was indistinguishable from the dirt it was mixed with and stuck up at odd angles, her face had an unhealthy, waxy yellowish sheen to it.

"Still, I s'pose it's better than nothing. There's always 'is organs," the woman continued and it finally registered what they meant.

"I-I'm not dead," I pointed out, afraid that they somehow hadn't noticed, "I'm alive and I'm a person not... not food."

"You is to us, my boy. It's survival of the fittest, innit Rob?"

"Yeah, that's what you get fer stepping in a trap. We gotta eat," the man confirmed as he lifted a hand up and the woman gave him something I hadn't noticed before, a bloody blade bigger than my head. A meat cleaver. I could see my reflection draining of color as the blade was left to dangle beside my face, "So 'ow should we do this? Kill 'im first or just take 'is limbs, might keep 'is organs fresher?"

"No!" I yelped in fear. The couple was immediately thrown across the room by magic, it wasn't my intention but I'm glad for it all the same.

"Oi, Rob! The boy's a Magical!" the woman screeched.

I scrambled to get off the table despite the pain it caused my wound, glancing around to look for an exit. There was a window beside the table I'd just gotten off, a box of those biting traps and an assortment of weapons that looked like they'd be used for hunting on the wall near the couple. There was a door leading to another room behind me and an open door that I could see the outside through in front of me, I started hobbling towards it in a struggle against the pain from my ankle.

"I can see that!" the man complained but I didn't bother looking back, "Think we'll become Magicals too if we eat 'im?"

"Won't know unless you do summat! Can't you see, 'e's getting away!"

I was out the door now, limping as fast as my legs could carry me so anymore of their conversation was lost on me. It was an awkward slow process of moving, painful and I could still feel blood dribbling down from the biting trap wounds but I didn't dare stop. I was trying to decide whether I should be glad they weren't following or concerned by it when I felt a sharp stabbing pain shoot through my side, I screamed and fell. There was an arrow now coated in my own blood sticking through me, I was breathing heavily and trying to grit my teeth through the new pain as I glanced back. The man was now standing in the doorway of the small shack, holding one of the weapons that had been near him, a crossbow I think it's called.

He smiled triumphantly, revealing a row of rotted, brown teeth that he was soon going to use to devour me. Some of the Muggles survived the mass-executions, they live scattered about and struggling to survive. There's lots of stories about them being savages and having turned to cannibalism, if Magicals have trouble getting food then nomad Muggles must have it worse. I never thought much about it until then, I guess it's true though. Muggles are monsters. The man started to walk towards me and I tried to stand but the pain was overwhelming, instead I simply tried to half-crawl, half-drag myself away because it hurt less. It was hopeless though and deep down I knew that, the man reached me in seconds and stomped down on my hand to stop me moving. I bite down on my tongue to stop myself crying out in pain, I looked up at him pleadingly but he simply lowered the re-loaded crossbow to my head coldly. For a second I really thought I was going to die, it was only for a second but it was enough to ignite the instinct to survive. I moved my hand and willed with every fiber of my soul for the Muggles to be gone.

Desperation paid off. The crossbow was thrown aside and the man cast violently backwards, smashing into the woman in the doorway of the shack. The shack seemed to explode then, the couple were tossed aside again from the deafening boom while an inferno blazed where the shack had been a moment ago. I'd never seen a fire like that before, so wild and untamed as the flames licked the sky, roaring for all to see. I was so transfixed that I took my eyes off the Muggles for a minute, I don't know what they were doing but the next thing was a flash of green light. I turned my head in time to see a jet of green light hit the woman, almost immediately followed by a second that hit the man before he could register what had occurred. Their corpses fell limply to the ground. It isn't the first time I've seen dead bodies but it is the first I've seen them die.

I glanced at my rescuer, Death Eater Growell, a large lump of man who works at the orphanage. He looked at the fire for a moment, the flames reflecting in the shiny, beady eyes that are wedged into his skull. Yes, he just thought to look at the fire while I lay there bleeding and in agony, Death Eaters are like that. For a minute I wondered whether he was going to kill me too but he didn't, instead he crossed the distance between and kicked the wound with the arrow. I screamed and howled in pain but his expression didn't change from the ever-present stern expression, it seemed carved into his face.

"There's curfew for a reason," Growell pointed out, sounding threatening. But then everything he says sounds threatening, probably because he sounds like he ate gravel, "You caused that fire."

"Ye-Ye-Wh-Why?" I stammered out and was rewarded by another kick, I screamed louder, "Yes! Yes I did it! I didn't mean to, they were trying to kill me! And eat me! What did you want?!"

"Just to know," Growell shrugged and flicked his wand, whatever spell he used sent me hurtling into darkness.

Pain is what woke me next, another stabbing pain in my side tearing through me and I screamed as I jolted up. I opened my eyes just in time to see the arrow shooting out of me, I collapsed back onto the bed and Death Eater Parkinson laughed before starting waving her wand at my wound to make it start magically choppily stitching itself. I looked around and recognized that I was in the Hospital Room, it's just as grubby as the other rooms except there are bars on the windows and blood stains on the walls, ceiling, floor and even the rusted bed frame. There's only one bed, people usually go to the Hospital Room when they're too injured or sick to function and they rarely come out alive. Another oversight on Lord Voldemort's part was that his war disrupted magical trade as well, cutting off potion ingredient suppliers and cutting off ingredients completely from places not yet conquered. This is most noticeable in the medical field where potions are majorly important in healing, Death Eaters don't tend to be good at healing spells so they're even more important. If the Death Eaters get sick or injured they go to a real hospital with real Healers though, I don't think they care if we die but they care about themselves.

The Hospital Room is also where they take those chosen to become werewolves in Greyback's branch of the Death Eaters, it depends on how many children are here but he comes every so often and they're supposedly chosen at random. They get dragged into here to be bitten then they're taken away to serve Lord Voldemort as werewolves, they're lesser beings but still have their uses I guess. It's just another reason to not get attached to people, people die or go away, that's how it works. Usually in the very same Hospital Room I was in. Growell came in after that, eyed my stitched up - but still painful injuries - before taking out his wand to summon a plate with some food on it to hand to me. An actual plate. Like what the Death Eaters eat off. And good food too, a chunk of not-stale bread, something green that I think is called lettuce and two meatballs that smelled delicious. I think it was fresh from the kitchen. If I wasn't quite sure that I didn't have a birthday then I'd have thought that was it.

"Eat up and get some rest," Growell growled as he also conjured me a glass of water, a clean glass for once, "You're being tested tomorrow."

And then he left me with that. It explained the nice food. You see, those older than eleven are taken to study magic at a wizard school in one of the countries that was conquered. They either go on to be Grunts, who are soldiers in Lord Voldemort's army without the privileges of the higher ranked Death Eaters or citizens in the general population. Those Pureblooded or Death Eaters have the best lives you see, the easiest access to food and luxuries but we couldn't usually aspire to that. You have to be born Pureblooded or be adopted by one and Death Eaters have to graduate from Hogwarts. Hogwarts used to the school for England but now it's only for the Elites of Lord Voldemort's world because it's the school he went to, founded by one of his ancestors. The only way to get into Hogwarts is through Pureblood status, being the child of a Death Eater, being rich or being especially powerful and talented. That's what being tested is, the chance to get into Hogwarts on skill. They want skill in their army.

You're brought before the Dark Lord himself, you impress him with your talent or power with magic and get sent to Hogwarts to begin the path to becoming a Death Eater, a better life but a darker one. Or you don't impress him and he kills you. Working at an orphanage is a punishment for Death Eaters who've done something wrong or failed, finding someone who passes the test gets you moved to a better station for the Death Eater or back to the orphanage with failure. The nice meal is either an act of pity that it's my final meal or an act to try give me as much strength as possible to pass the test, depending on how you look at it. Either way, it was the last night I'd ever spend in that place. I was left alone to devour my meal and drink, I tried to make it last to savor the delicious taste but it's hard when you're so hungry all the time. I couldn't sleep all night, I don't know whether from my thoughts or the pain from my wounds or what. It rained, I like to think the rain was saying goodbye. Something soothing in the face of possible death. I cried. It was the first time I cried in a while.

I don't want to die. I don't want to be a Death Eater either. I suppose it boils down to which would be better, to die but die as a good person or live a better life but as a bad person. It's a shame I couldn't have just held on a few more months, then I'd be in a magic school where I could live out my crummy life. I'd been looking forward to getting a wand and learning magic. I suppose it doesn't matter, I don't even know if I'll be able to impress the Dark Lord really. I'll try, I can't not. It's kind of exciting to get to meet someone so famous, the Conqueror of Countries, the Man Who Shattered the Statue of Secrecy, the Immortal, the Greatest Sorcerer in the World. But also the one responsible for all the misery and suffering in the world, I suppose he doesn't care about that if he's happy. Growell came back in the dawn to take me out, after the rain had stopped, I was allowed another glass of water and a new cloak since my clothes were stained by my blood. Then we left. And that's where you find me now, feeling like I'm being pushed through a tube as we apparate. I don't know if anyone's noticed this but it made me feel like vomiting, I'm trying to hold onto my food though, I don't want to lose my last meal.

I'm in a city now, Voldon. I hear it used to be called something else though, Londis? Londen? Something like that, the capital of Mortland, I think it was always called Mortland though. If Growell hadn't mentioned it then I'd have thought it was a ruin though, there are so many buildings - more than I've ever seen in my life - but they're all crumbling apart, all cracked and broken like this world. There's gaping holes, none have roofs and some are on their side completely with all the windows blown out. There's rubble everywhere, bits of rock and twists of steel, even shards of glass. It's hard to walk with my injured ankle, I'm limping pretty badly and the lumps of rubble don't help. My side still hurts too but I guess it doesn't matter, I don't have to hold on too long because I'll either be given proper treatment or death so I won't have to worry about it. Its dark here, it always is. I can see the sun though, trying to shine through the clouds. It illuminates the city, creating all these shadows. It's pretty cool really.

I see people occasionally too, people live here somehow. Whether in the wrecks of buildings or somewhere I haven't seen that's nicer, I don't know, I don't even know if they're Muggles or Magicals. I only get glimpses of them, they scuttle back into the shadows if I try getting a better look. They don't seem much better than us though, tattered, dusty cloaks are all I keep seeing. Growell pulls me on and I notice this statue we're approaching, it's got to be about fifty feet tall. All in polished black marble, not the slightest bit chipped or cracked. It's of the Dark Lord, no one else would be allowed to erect such a monument. It stands before a palace, created from the same black marble and I don't know why but it makes me think of a tomb. It's square and chunky with golden pillars twisting up to the sky, gleaming serpents are coiled around them. The door is glittering and golden too, raised snakes decorate it too and for the handle. There are two figures before it, Death Eaters in clean robes of the darkest black and faces harder than the marble they stand before. Growell grunts at them, they snicker at me but let us enter. The doors open automatically as we approach.

There's an emerald carpet the width of the door that leads into it, I stop to stare but Growell shoves me roughly inside. We start to walk up the hall and the doors close behind us, I feel the last gust of wind grace the scar on my cheek and then it's gone. Is it strange that it makes me feel sad? That might very well be the last time I ever feel the wind on my face, he last time I breathe fresh air and the last time I stood in the daylight. Growell urges me on though, there's nothing I could do now. Nothing I could ever have done. The interior is the same blocky black marble, emerald torches light themselves as go by and flicker off the walls. It makes me think of the Muggles that Growell killed with a flash of green light, as if that death light is hidden in the walls. It still feels like a tomb. It does light up the decoration on the walls though, brilliant tapestries and paintings, all of the Dark Lord, war scenes of his victories or serpents. I'm glad there are things to look at to distract me, all this walking is really painful for my ankle. Then the hallway stops as does the carpet, widening to the hall at the end.

The light is already lit here, it's the same emerald flame and the same black marble, the floor seems to shine. There are no tapestries or paintings here, just skulls to decorate them. The skulls of his enemies. There's a table with a bottle of red water and ornate golden goblets, a bald rat-like man stands behind it, stroking an eerie silver hand. A servant probably, waiting to serve his masters. There are seven chairs that look more like marble thrones, all in front of the wall facing us and on a raised pedestal. There's a figure in each of them, you can tell the males from the identical black cloaks although they have different decorative clasps and different decorative patterns on the cloaks, the women wear tight decorative black dresses and jewelry. And then there's the Dark Lord Voldemort in the center and most ornate chair, facing me. His cloak is black. Just black. So simple yet somehow more striking as it contrasts with his chalky white flesh. His eyes burn like crimson flames on a face that looks more like a skull, he has no nose but slits for nostrils like a snake. Some people despise him, some people adore him, some people fear him. I really don't know what to feel. I don't _want_ to die but I don't fear it. How can I adore a man who caused so much destruction? How can I despise a man for destroying a world I don't even understand? I was never part of the old world.

Above him, nailed to the wall is a corpse. The Boy Who Died. They say he used to have a name once, it was celebrated across the land as he was the one to defeat the Dark Lord. They cheered too soon though for he failed ultimately. They must've preserved his body somehow. To some degree anyway as his hands seem rotted and rank, the rest is hidden by clothes so I can't tell but his face is intact. His hair is black and untidy, his eyes are the color of the emerald flames and hidden behind round eyeglasses, sightlessly gazing into nothing. He looks young, just a teenager when he died, just a teenager who was expected to defeat the greatest wizard in the world. He died years before I was born though, he's a teenager no more. Just another dead body. His scar is the most noticeable thing, on his forehead. It really is shaped like a lightning bolt, just like they say in the stories. This place is a tomb after all. His tomb.

"So this is who you bring me for testing?" the Dark Lord addresses Growell darkly, I'm immediately shoved forward to fall to my knees. You're supposed to bow. I bend over so my face touches the floor, clutching at the pain in my side, "You may rise. Come closer, my boy."

I try to get up, not fast enough for Growell who grabs my collar and hauls me to my feet instead. He pushes me roughly towards Lord Voldemort, leaving to me limp a little closer with my agonizing ankle, aggravated by the recent rash of movement. They laugh. The ones in the chairs, the servant, even Voldemort gives a high, cold, cruel laugh that touches every corner of the massive room. There are no windows in here. I suppose I must look rather pitiful, limping towards the most powerful man in the world. Me, an injured weak parentless child in a tattered, ragged cloak and a scar on my face. No wants a child with a scar on their face. My fist clenches.

"Now, now, we must give the boy a chance to prove his worth," Voldemort says and smiles, "Show us."

And this is it. The beginning or the end. The end of my life in one way or another. The beginning of a life or the beginning of a death. I don't know whether my magic will be enough, whether I can deliberately cause an inferno or whether desperation to survive will bring it on. No one will miss me. No one will notice I'm gone. No one will remember my name, you don't even know it. One more dead in a world already lost, it makes no difference. I wish I could say I had a good life but I didn't. Not really. No one does in this world.

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_**Author's Note:** I did write it as a one-shot but I might do more or a sequel if enough people are interested_


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